Lettie
by rmartin
Summary: House is battling Tritter, himself, his staff, his demons, and a feisty and self reliant little ballerina is being dragged along for the ride. R&R please and thank you! Last two Chapters are up! Its all over now. I hope you enjoyed.
1. You've Started Something

Disclaimer: I do not own House or whatever implcations of other characters from the show there might be. I DO however, own lettie. She is mine, keep your grubby hands off. : )

A/N: I got the idea for this story from a Dance Magazine I was reading about a girl who was a medical doctor and a dancer, who went to a doctor for a diagnosis and was simply told "stop dancing". She dealt with it in her way, I created a character to handle it the way I thought it should be handled. Plus, I wondered if House could handle a situation where he could enable someone to do something wrong, or prevent them from starting a life like his. Please R/R.

"What's the matter?" snapped the doctor as he walked into the clinic room, leaning on his cane. He stopped for a minute and took in what he saw in front of him. There was a girl, very early twenties, in what were obviously ballet clothes. She was wearing a black leotard, thin-strapped, low-cut; and pink tights, with a tiny pair of black shorts just covering the middle. Her hair was pulled back in what probably used to be a flawless bun, and she was bent over the edge of the exam table stretching to touch her bare toes. She looked up when he came in, and as she tried to right herself, there was a noticeable look of pain on her face.

"Well," said the Doctor, checking the file he found in the room, "Lettie, you seem to be a ballerina. Thank God, my day just got better." She got a look of mischief on her face and said "Nope, sorry, hate to disappoint, I'm a stripper. This is my gimmick." When his jaw dropped open she quickly said "YES! I'm a ballerina. If your only use as a Doctor is stating the obvious, I need to go somewhere else. I'm in a hurry, I have rehearsal. What's your name anyway, since you seem to want to be friendly." The look of fun passed through her eyes one more time.

"I'm Dr. House, and I can do without the jokes. I am the only one allowed to make snide remarks, sarcastic comments, or rude gestures. You on the other hand, are only allowed to sit here, and definitely not go to rehearsal." "Why the hell not?!" Lettie said and winced as she tried to get off the table. "Your hip. A dancer with hip pain is no longer a dancer. You have to quit. Plain and simple." She looked at him and was about to say something he could tell would be explosive, but she refrained and instead opted for, "Please explain, cause I'm about two seconds from beating it out of here."

"Well, it's obvious that your hip hurts, and obvious that the thing you do most is dance. If you want the pain to go away, you have to stop doing what is causing it. Stop dancing, no more pain, ever. See? Two plus two is four, or is that, two plus two is five, six, seven, eight?" Dr. House laughed at his joke and expected the ballerina to at least smile at his knowledge of dance. Dating a cheerleader once hadn't been _all_ sex under the bleachers. But all that Lettie did was continue to work her way off of the table, and go limpingly to the door.

"You're not going anywhere Lettie. You probably need surgery, which at your age is gonna totally suck. But it's the truth, now get back here." But she just turned around and looked at him and said, "No, because you're not a Doctor any more." He said "Boy, do ballerinas not go to school? What gives you that impression?" and she replied "Well, it's obvious that your leg hurts, and obvious that the thing you do most is practice medicine. If you want the pain to go away, you have to stop doing what is causing it. Stop practicing medicine, no more pain, ever. See? Two plus two is four, or is that, two plus two equals jackass doctor opens himself up to be proved wrong?" She stood at the door, favoring her good hip and glaring at him. Something about being chastised by a lithe, young female had an effect on House. "What do you want from me?" he asked before she could turn away.

"Give me a diagnosis. Stop dancing is not a diagnosis. Tell me what is wrong, or if what is wrong really is all that bad as surgery, just give me something to make the pain go away, until my shelf-life as a dancer wears off." She stayed by the door, not willing to come back until he had given her a satisfactory answer. "What is the sell by date on a ballerina these days? Do you still come fresh, or have they figured out how to vacuum pack you yet?" House beckoned her over to the table but she shook her head. "I have about fifteen good years left, give or take a few." House looked at her and said, "Again, what do you want from me?" He could tell that she had more than just a prescription on her mind.

"Well, you seem to be in a lot of pain, but judging from the way you rattled when you walked in here, you must carry some pills to manage it. I want to be able to function at least as well as you. You don't plan on stopping medicine, I don't plan on stopping dance." House looked at her and realized she knew that he was not just popping a Tylenol now and then. He asked her one more question. "What would you have done if a non-limping Doctor had come in here? I mean there's so many more of those, your odds were not good." "I would have tried to figure out his addiction. I didn't know that I would get someone so easy. Give me whatever you take. Then tell me how to get it for as long as I need it with no one noticing."

"I am not going to turn you into an addict." House had a flash of conscience. He could see this girl struggling in the middle of the night like he did, with sleepy hands and a child-proof cap in the dark. "Who says I am not already? You've got a choice, I can either be addicted to the pain, or be addicted to the pills. Some dancers are addicted to throwing up to maintain their weight, some to amphetamines to keep their energy up perpetually. I am addicted to dancing, and I will handle an addiction to whatever else helps me keep up the first habit. So what will it be Dr. House, let the hot little number limp out of here hating your guts? Or will you let the dancer walk out of here with a little dignity, and a little bottle of pills. Has it really ruined your life? I think not, or else you wouldn't be here with me now."

House looked at her long and hard one more time. He could only hope that whatever she had was just a muscle strain and before the script got filled it would stop hurting and she would never take the pills. But he didn't much care, she admitted she wanted to be an addict. House was not an addict, he knew he was in constant pain and really, really, needed those pills. He wouldn't let her liken him to herself. But he would give her the pills, and hope she never came back.

"Ok, this will be for Vicodin. I am writing this for way more than you need at once. So cut the pills in quarters, they will last four times as long as they're supposed to and people will think that you are not using it constantly. That way when you come in for the refill they won't look twice at it. And do not ever come to see me about it again. I don't want to know. Get out of here." He tore the paper off of his pad, and handed it to her. Lettie turned around to face the door and as she opened it she said "Thank you Dr. House. And who knows, when I can't be a ballerina any more, I might just come look you up with my new job as a stripper." She gave him a blank faced look, with eyes that held more than just a little promise.

House sat back against the exam table and stared after her. He wasn't sure what he had just done, he was not sure he cared. He did however, kinda want to know what happened to the asshole he left in the other exam room with the thermometer in his butt. House walked away to go find out.


	2. Now You Have a Choice

**Disclaimer again: Everyone in this story besides Lettie belongs to someone else. But Lettie, she's mine. Paws off.**

It had been a few weeks. House had been cranky, angry, and if he was honest, a little bit worried. He had more important things to think about though, so his inner monologue was not going to rehash every single detail. Basically, thermometer-ass had turned out to be a cop with ChiPs on his shoulder (ah, even his subconscious was pop-culture nostalgic and witty), and was making House's life pretty unpleasant. House knew that if the cop had his way, his life would become miserable. He hoped someone would stop the guy before it got to that.

Suddenly House saw something he didn't think he would see again, except for every Tuesday when his dreams had a free spot. It was a familiar ballerina, limping toward him. Thankfully he noted, not limping more than last time. Even better, he could hear from her jacket pocket as she approached him, the faint rattle of pills. She wasn't coming back for more Vicodin. Now with ass-cop Tritter in his life, that was the last thing he needed. He saw her finally look him in the eye and with appropriate disapproval and the correct amount of down-his-nose-ness, Dr. House said "Lettie, I believe. Did they not let you dance the Sugar Plum Fairy, so you decided to quit on them? Or did they tell you that only ducks waddle and you were out of Swan Lake?" He saw that his acid tone did nothing to her countenance and thought, "Stupid ballet schools, they turn out little ice queens. I can tell Cameron never took a class; she cares too much."

"I didn't come about my hip, the pills work fine. A masseuse said I probably just pinched a nerve anyway and it wouldn't be permanent." She was actually wearing shoes and pants today, the jacket and loose hair suggested she had a day off. House was a little disappointed that she didn't always wear leotards and tights. It blew the illusion a little. "So besides rubbing it in my face that you didn't ask me to give you a rub down, what do you want me for this time?" She shifted uncomfortably and looked around. Almost like she thought she was being watched. So House said "Would my office be better?" She nodded and he led her down the hall.

When they were safely inside the office she spouted loudly and, it seemed to House, with more force than she intended, "What did you get me into?! I came to see you because I was hurting, and then a week later a cop was at my rehearsal asking how regularly I saw my supplier!!" She looked at him with an absolutely furious glare and then threw her hands in the air. "If I had known the police were into dogging people with legitimate problems I really would have gone to the street corner! Do you seriously deal drugs from the clinic?" House grabbed his giant tennis ball, tossed it to her and as she caught it, said "I'm not answering you until you throw this as hard as you can against the wall." She hesitated and he said, "Not answering. I do not want you still angry so you fly over here and hit me."

She moved the ball to her throwing hand and hurled it against the wall. It ricocheted off the opposite wall before coming to rest near her feet and House, without thinking much explained what he had done. He was rounding his story to a close, "So now, since he has the proverbial stick, literal thermometer up his ass… he is taking it out on me. And trying to get to me by making hell for everyone I touch." Before he got the sentence properly closed Lettie picked up the tennis ball he had forgotten to retrieve and hurled it at his head.

"You bastard!" She was amazingly, or purposefully, less accurate this time and only managed to scare him as the ball whizzed past his head. "You almost got me fired, my entire job thinks I am addicted to painkillers. I said I wanted an addiction, and I was serious. But I only wanted one if it was real! I am not addicted to the pills, hardly ever take them, and then this cop shows up suggesting to my Director that she might want to send me to rehab for something my Doctor had done to me! I don't even know you!"

House rested his head on the head of his cane. He took several deep breaths, and reached into his desk drawer to his secret-secret stash, one Tritter hadn't found yet. He took two pills out, swallowed them, and then turned back to the pacing young woman on the other side of the desk. "Come here," he said. She walked over to the desk. "No, here." He motioned her closer. She came all the way around to his chair; with her fist balled in a way his jaw did not care to think about. He grabbed her hand and jerked it down so that she was squatting to look into his eyes.

"Did you convince them you are not an addict?" She bit her lip and said with a faint pout, "Only after someone stayed with me for three days to make sure I was taking an "appropriate amount" of medicine. Thankfully they have no idea what appropriate is, so when she saw me only take three-quarters of one pill in three days, she told them I hardly took any at all." She looked down and he pushed her chin back up with the end of his cane. "Did they let you keep your job?" Lettie tried to keep the tears out of her eyes as she said, "Only if I can give a satisfactory answer about why a cop was after me. What do I tell them? I can't tell them what you really did. God Dr House, that just reeks of a lie, I almost don't believe it but I have spent two minutes with you." As she sunk down to sit dejectedly on the floor, one tear tumbled out of her eye and she beat her cheek angrily with her still-balled fist.

House was silent for a minute, his inner monologue still working, but fewer guffaws and less snappy now. "She really does love dancing. Have I ruined it for her?" His mind settled on the answer even as the excuse came out of his mouth. "I will send you to my boss. If you can pull your eyes away from her amazing rack, tell her what you told me. Not the three quarters of a Vicodin part, but the part about you seeing me in the clinic and Tritter bothering you about seeing me. The job thing. Tell her you will have your bosses call her, and I know she will not let you fall because of me. Unlike me, she has a shred of decency."

He stood up and held out his came for her to grab onto. She used it to help herself up and started piecing her composure back together to walk out into the hall. As she started to open the door, House noticed she had a penchant for dramatic exits (much like he did) she said "Well, thank you Dr. House, that was, surprisingly, decent of you." "If you need more sarcasm and ogling, feel free to call." That was his reply. The door swung shut, Lettie limped slightly down the hall, out of his view. He avoided wondering if she could do splits all the way to the floor. He wondered if that made two decent things in one day.

_A/N: I have a short Chapter 3 and a full Chapter 4 ready to go up, but I am waiting until I can see if I want to end the story for a while (when that new ep in Jan comes on) or if I can continue a little from one new set of content. So 3 & 4 will go up slowly._


	3. What's it Gonna Be?

**Disclaimer: House not mine, makes me sad. Lettie _IS_ mine, sorta makes up for it but not quite.**

_A/N: I am not sure how long I should keep posting this, because if I catch up to where the series is, I can't go on, I do not want to speculate and have to backtrack. So this is 3, I have a 4 already, I might could make a 5 with what we have to work with. Less House, more Lettie maybe. Please R&R so I can make the decision. Thanks. : )_

Gregory House was in terrible pain. He was on the couch in his apartment, cut off from everything he needed. There was no more Vicodin. There were no more patients. Wilson had traded him for a deal of his own, and now House was being forced to take the deal. He wasn't going to. He would let them kill him before he would admit he had a drug problem. He didn't have a drug problem; he had a pain problem. The drugs cured the pain problem. He ached, literally ached for those few months of respite on the Ketamine.

Cuddy had come by, Cameron had come by, he thinks that Foreman might have been out there; he vaguely remembered talking to Foreman in Cuddy's office. Everyone had come for advice; no one had come to offer him relief. Everyone had come to tell him to take Tritter's deal; no one, well, maybe Cameron, had come to sympathize. Even she said take the deal. House's mind had been going over and over their betrayal all day, while the same question had tried to work itself out in his mind, "Where to get more pills?"

Somewhere outside the music from another apartment floated around. It was a waltz, it sounded like a symphony playing a ballet. "Hmmm… ballet." House's addled brain couldn't think far enough past the pain to figure out why ballet seemed like such a good idea to him at first. He sat on the couch, trying to figure it out. A pair of shapely legs appeared to him, followed by a slight limp. Then it dawned on him. He grabbed the phone and paged Dr. Chase. He figured if anyone was past questioning his motives, it was Chase. He just had to figure out how to get him to play along. Into the pager he put, "Lettie- Ballerina from my clinic files- feeling horny- send me her number."

About a half an hour later, just when he thought that Chase had read the file too closely to fall for his game, his pager went off, with just a number and the word "Chase." "Thank God" House mumbled as he reached for the phone again. "Now I just have to appeal to the ice queen's softer side. I hope she has a softer side"


	4. Take the Easy, or the Hard Road?

**Disclaimer: I did not own them at the beginning of the story, the characters from Hosue are STILL not mine. But Lettie is mine, all mine, seriously.**

**A/N:** _I will be out of town until after the New Year, plenty of time to read, re-read and review. Please do. After the next new show airs, i will see where to take the story from there. : )_

Two hours ago House had mumbled into the phone "Look I swear it isn't going to get you arrested, just take down this address and meet me there when you've done what I asked you to do." "Ok," he heard on the other end of the phone and slammed it down as Lettie's voice was continuing "but you know I don't trust you." House unlocked the door so that he wouldn't have to get back up, and crumpled onto the couch. If he could just wait until she showed up, he would be alright. He knew he would be. She was bringing relief.

Those thoughts had been circling through his head with increasing desperation for the past two hours, and just as he was giving up, there was a knock on his door. "Who is it?" He moaned, and heard the voice outside say "Your dancing telegram." Lettie obviously had no idea how much pain he had been in on the phone, which was good because he would need the shock when she came in to help his cause. "Come in" he moaned again and made sure to look his most pathetic. However, under the circumstances, that was not too difficult a task.

"Wait, is this your apartme- where are you?" She was just inside the door and not moving any farther. House lifted his cane over the back of the couch and mumbled something unintelligible. "What's the matter?" Lettie walked around the side of the couch and saw him lying there. "Dr. House oh my God, what's the matter?! Why did you call me, why didn't you call someone from the hospital?" She was visibly panicked, at least that part had worked, but she didn't seem to be incoherent, so he wasn't going to be able to soften his act. He would have to struggle through the convincing her part. So he pulled himself up with a groan of pain and wiped his mouth on his arm.

"They kicked me off my case, they took my pills, Tritter is succeeding in ruining my life like he tried to ruin yours." House grabbed his leg and winced, and struggled on. "I'm not addicted to the medicine, I'm not addicted to the pain; I'm addicted to practicing medicine. They won't let me do it if I don't take Tritter's deal. I won't take it cause I won't admit I'm an addict when I'm not. Help me. I thought you would understand." He considered throwing in a bit about the Ketamine, how he didn't need the pills when there was no pain, just to prove his point. He opened an eye and looked at her.

"I didn't know it was anything like that when you first called, you know?" He wondered why that was a question but before he could struggle to ask she continued, "I thought you wanted a booty call, or thought I went in for that type of thing. Then when you told me to go get my prescription refilled and come meet you somewhere, I kinda pieced it together." He moaned, wanting her to say the words he was imagining, not what he knew was coming next. But she didn't say anything at all. She just moved to the couch where he was sitting and plopped herself down next to him. She stayed silent, like she was thinking of something, and House wanted to respect her thoughts but more than her, he wanted to help himself.

"So are you going to give me the Vicodin or should I kick you out?" She just sat there, picking at an imaginary piece of lint on her coat, and then she took it off. "I didn't go to the pharmacy. I called the hospital. I asked for someone on your team. They let me talk to Dr. Cameron. I told her what you said and she said not to do it. I told her I wanted to, she told me she wanted me to, but that I shouldn't, because I should stay out of it." He rolled his eyes; trust Cameron to care about a stranger more than she cared even about herself, or him. Lettie kept talking, "But she did say to come talk to you. I think she might have wanted to come back herself. I wish she had, she knows you, I don't." House moaned and said to her "What does it matter? Give me pills!"

"It does matter, and I don't want to be responsible. So I didn't get my prescription refilled. But I did bring you the one pill I had left. I figured I would leave at least one pill up to you." House stared at her, and almost wanted to shake her to get it, but he knew she just had to walk out, and he was in too much pain to chase her. So he had to be careful. "Do I have to count backwards from 100 and stand on one leg to get it? I assure you, I only have one leg to stand on. Lettie, give me the Vicodin." She reached into her bag, and was obviously stalling while she pretended to search for the pill. She had more to say and was going to use this time to say it. "You should take Tritter's deal. It would show them that not only are you not an addict, but that you are also man enough to beat them at their own game." She found the pill but was not handing it over yet. "Because if the leg still hurts beyond anything they can do for you in rehab, they will be forced to confront their mistake. It might be painful for you, but you will win. Isn't winning all you ever want? I know that winning is all I ever want. We're a lot alike. It's why I came. Not because I care about you, but because I would want someone to do whatever I asked them to do. Just like you. But, I do care about you."

Was this going to turn into a Cameron thing? "I obviously care about you too Lettie, as in I do not hate your guts and didn't let you get arrested. But that care is balanced on a fine point that is one pill of Vicodin, right now, its too fine to bet on. Hand it over." She did, and he swallowed it lightning fast so she couldn't take it back. He was like a desperate toddler. And as soon as the pill was past the point of no return, he calmed down. He turned to Lettie to tell her to get out, but she was already putting her things back in her bag. Not going to turn into a Cameron thing, she didn't want thanks and love and respect.

"Go to rehab House, when you get out look me up. But not otherwise, I can't have anyone thinking I lied to them. Unlike you I don't do anything special, I can be replaced. But they wouldn't want to replace you; they really are trying to help. I know they seem like selfish bastards, but prove them wrong." She reached out a hand and with the sleeve of her coat wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I've done all I'll do, I never thought I would end up mixed up with an addicted Doctor I saw for five minutes in a clinic. Maybe if you clean yourself up, I'll show you what all that ballet does for my personal life… maybe." She walked out the door, her last dramatic exit for a while.

Dr. House got himself together a little; one Vicodin wasn't going to help much. He needed to get over to the hospital to lean on Wilson, or someone else, and use their guilt to get one more fix. He was fairly certain Lettie was throwing him a line about the "personal life" thing, but all the same, it gave him something to think about on the other side of a rehab stint. A flexible little ballerina could really make his life more interesting. But now he had to go press Wilson for some pills.


	5. Cause? No, Just Effects

**Disclaimer: for the millionth time... I do not own House or anyone in his world. I did create Lettie though, she is perfect and she is mine. No touch ballerina!**

**A/N:** _This is just to fill in the time between new episodes, since I am following the story line so closely. I did bring Cameron in, but just her voice, I was afraid to get too involved, she might be even more complex than House. Please R&R._

Lettie had just walked out of Dr. House's apartment moments before. She was feeling a little scared at what she had just done, a little guilty for letting a stranger get to her like that, and very keyed up and tense about what might happen to her now. She paused on the corner of the block and flipped through her cell phone to find the hospital's number. She was just hoping someone would talk to her.

In response to the question of where she would like to be directed, Lettie asked for Dr. Cameron, hoping the other woman would be as nice to her now that she had taken action, as she was before. "Dr. Cameron, its Lettie, from earlier. I wanted to tell you what happened." The woman on the other end consented, "It's a good time to talk, we're waiting on some tests. Not long enough for you to come in though, are you ok on the phone?" Lettie said she was. "So what happened?" Lettie quickly gave a run down about how she went to House's apartment, gave him the one Vicodin pill, told him she was refusing to help him with his addiction any more, and that he should take Tritter's deal.

"Well it was all you could do for him Lettie, he won't let anyone help. I should know, I've tried." Dr. Cameron's voice sounded very strange, and very tired. Lettie was quick to use her intuition to find the things to say. "He does care, he just doesn't know how to show it. He told me that it was because he cared enough about me not to get me fired, that he got Dr. Cuddy to help me. I know its because he cares so much about you- and the rest of his team, that he is fighting this. He is more afraid of how it will look if you are connected to a doctor who admitted to having a problem, than a doctor who was martyred for the sake of a dirty cop's vendetta."

"Martyr?! House?!" Dr. Cameron sounded like the next words out of her mouth would be very harsh, so Lettie cut her off to explain. "He really does care, I saw the look in his eyes when I said I talked to you. He was afraid I would be like you, and there would be one more person he was scared he might hurt. I sucked it up and treated him with as much acid as he deals out, and he was grateful." Cameron sighed on the other end of the line; it was still a sigh of mild disbelief. "If you say so, I really hope you are right Lettie. Thank you for trying to help, I am sorry you can't do anything more, that none of us can do anything more."

Lettie was almost finished walking home; she didn't realize that for all this time she had lived so close to a man who was rocking the world she walked through blindly. "Dr. Cameron, I know this sounds strange, but maybe sometime, how ever this resolves itself- I hope for the better- could I come in and talk with you? Just for a little while, just to help me process all of this?" "Yes, I get the feeling we will all need a debriefing. It might be good for u- Lettie? I have to go, House is here!" Before Lettie could respond, Cameron had rung off the line.

"I hope nothing bad happens that involves me. I really really hope nothing bad happens BECAUSE of me."


	6. Finally Nearing a Close

**Disclaimer: House is still not mine, nor is Cameron. Lettie still is mine, hands off.**

**_A/N: this is almost the end for Lettie and Dr. House. Please be sure to read and review for me. I am definitely interested in what you all think, praise or criticism alike._**

_Dr. House was really something. How could she have known this would happen to her? Lettie was exhausted. She sat down on a bench outside of the hospital and closed her eyes. The last two hours flooded back to her with almost more emotion than when she lived them first hand._

"What are you doing? Do you miss me yet?" The voice was only familiar because of the self-absorbed quality that still managed to cover her like a blanket, even through the cell phone. "What do you want Dr. House? Do you need a character witness? I am not sure you can count on me." Lettie was annoyed to hear his voice so close to the time when she walked out on him. If nothing else, he should be in jail. She was not sure if she had persuaded him into rehab. "I just want to know what you are doing. And hurry up and tell me because they only allow us personal phone calls between Art and Group." Lettie stammered a little.

"You- you actually went to… rehab? I'm um, right in the middle of a rehearsal of sorts. I guess if you want to call waiting on the dance captain to make the DVD player work "in the middle of". Rehab? Really?" She could hear the nervous tension building on the other end of the phone and hoped it wouldn't seep over to her side. "Yeah rehab really. But it's not what you think. In fact you would probably be appalled at me. I am cheating my way through. But! Before you protest your little heart out, Tritter is gone, so I can lie, cheat and steal all I want." She could hear a deep breath and then a long exhale, and then silence.

"Tritter is really gone? So he is going to leave me alone too? That's great, I mean I think that's great. What do you mean cheating your way through?" She had a look on her face that only said "motherly concern" and hoped that the doctor couldn't read her expression through the phone. "I can't explain it to you like this. I need you to come here. Well, I've been told to have you come here. I'm not on step nine yet, but Dr. Cameron said I should apologize to you in person. She thinks I have really messed you up. So um, after my group, in say, 45 minutes? Would you?" "I guess so House. I mean, yeah, I'll be there." "Good, stay in your rehearsal clothes. The giant thugs around here refuse to put on the tights I bought them. I am getting tired of the view." Before she could protest, like he always seemed to know she would, House had hung up the phone.

Lettie arrived exactly 40 minutes later to the clinic of the hospital, the only entrance she had ever taken. She was walking down the hall to the elevators when she was stopped by a pretty doctor who couldn't be too much older than her, that she knew from the voice must be Dr. Cameron. "Lettie? I am guessing you are Lettie, not many dancers walk through here every day. I'm Dr. Cameron." Lettie was impressed, the woman was very attractive and very strong looking, but not without that comfortable feeling of compassion. "Yeah, I'm Lettie. Its good to actually meet you. Have you heard that Dr. House summoned me as per your request?" "Yes, I heard. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to keep dragging you into this. I just thought that it would be like that debriefing you wanted." "Its ok Dr. Cameron, I think we'll just have to see what happens. Want to come along?"


	7. The End, not without its moments

**Disclaimer: House... someone else's. Cameron too. Lettie, mine mine mine mine mine.**

Right on the nose of 45 minutes, Lettie and Dr. Cameron walked into the communal room of the rehab ward and found House sitting there staring up at the ceiling. He took his eyes off the speckled tile long enough to look at them and raise his eyebrows. Even as angry as the two women were, they could definitely tell the look was "What did I do to deserve a reward?" Lettie started the cut-off by saying "We're not here to massage your ego or anything else on your body. We're here for apologies, explanations and to get on with our lives." Cameron added, "Don't even think about being crude, cause we're not in the mood for it." "Oh so the dominatrix fantasy comes true this time?" House asked, and laced his hands behind his head. The doctor turned on her heel and headed for the elevator. The ballerina stood wavering in the space between the woman she wanted to respect, and the man who held her attention captive for weeks.  
Dr. Cameron turned back to Lettie at the door and said "I think this would be best carried out one at a time, I am sorry I was foolish enough to think he could handle both of us at once. If it's all right with you I would like to talk with you sometime, I actually think we have something in common besides… him." She gave House a disparaging look and stormed out of the room. "I'm sorry, she's not used to socializing on any level that does not contain cotton candy and love. How are you?" "I'm good… yourself?" "Good, one of the goons is acting as my supplier and I am getting everything I want." He cocked an eyebrow at her and waited for a response. He got what he was waiting for.

"You really are unbelievable. Do you know that? You are in rehabilitation for God's sake and you are- I won't say it! I won't say it. I just, I can't imagine what you are thinking. But I won't blow your cover. You are still relatively a stranger, and so it is none of my business any more." She looked at him and Dr. House realized she had tear-filled eyes. "Damn it Lettie, if you cry, I will throw you out of here. I will do it. I have Cameron looking at me with wet eyes five days a week and I was expecting more out of you. She doesn't know how to handle me, I thought you might try."

"The last time I cried because of you they were angry tears House. What makes you think these are not the same?" Three tears dropped from her eyes and landed on her tights. They made darker pink circles on the lightly rosy Lycra. She jabbed at one of the splotches with a finger. A fourth tear fell and landed on House's sleeve. She reached out a jacket-sleeved hand to brush it away and he caught her hand before she could pull it back. The room, the entire ward it seemed, was suddenly deathly silent. "Give me my hand back Dr. House, please?" Her voice shook in an emotion that could have been perceived as fear, but was really an almost flawlessly controlled rage.

"What makes you hate me so?" House used his other hand to pick up her chin and level her eyes with his. Brown met blue and locked to the very core of both souls before Lettie spoke. "I do not hate you. I have never hated you. Even when you were being such a bastard in the clinic, I didn't hate you. Even if you had not listened to me, I would not have hated you. I don't think I could if I tried." "So you really are like Cameron? Are you really in love with me despite the complete jackass thing I do to everyone?" Neither had moved a muscle, or an eye until Lettie spoke again, she wrestled her face away from House's hand and looked to the ground when she said:

"Its not love really. Its not even sex, not really. I just LIKE you. I just really thought when I saw you walk in, that I might have just found someone who could be termed, 'my match'. I had pretty well determined by the time I limped out of that clinic that I had to know you. So when all of this came down on me, I thought I brought it on myself. I thought I had made a bad choice, and that I was suffering the consequences of thinking I'd found someone who could best me. I thought I was suffering because you were besting me. I lied for you. I told Dr. Cameron, who I really like as well, that you were more concerned about your team than about yourself. I knew it was a lie when I said it. But I didn't want to hurt her, and I wanted to protect you too. I didn't want her to abandon you."

Dr. House looked at her and his jaw flexed a few times, but he remained silent so she plunged on. "You said you helped me because you liked me. I wanted you to keep liking me. It's a damn silly thing I admit. It's the closest thing to a schoolgirl crush I have ever been a part of. I hate myself for it. It's made me let my guard down. And you're not really my match. You are a bitter man who is addicted to his pain and his methods for curing it; addicted to the commotion he brings to the world, addicted to the things he can contribute. I was duped. I am a fool. But if you said you loved me right now, I would probably believe it even though I wouldn't return the feeling. Because I just can't shake the stupidity." The flood of tears was pouring now, and the anger ran unchecked across her face. House was taken aback momentarily and then decided just to quietly let go of her hand and place his hand on her shoulder.

When her tears finally subsided and her jacket sleeves had been drenched, House spoke. "I have never had someone speak to me like that. I have had different people say different parts of that speech over and over again for the last few years, but I am not sure any one person has ever felt all that for me, and said it. Now I admit, I am a son of a bitch sometimes. I also admit I pretty much just wanted to sleep with you, a lot, when I saw you the first time. The second time though, I thought I had met MY match. You made me melt a little, and it scared me, because I wanted to help you and I never really want to help people without motives of my own."

She scoffed a little through her calming sobs. "When you came to my house I was faking it. I was in pain sure, but I was not as incoherent and pathetic as I seemed. I was hoping you would be so freaked out you wouldn't notice if I dropped the act. I should have known better. I did use you, and I was pissed off that you wouldn't play my game, so again I thought I had met my match. Now I do not know what to think. I don't know what to do."

"Just that fact right there tells me that you, Lettie, a genius ballerina with great timing, killer curves, great legs, and sexy as hell hair… are 'my match'. You have driven me to a brick wall, and slammed me against it so hard that I can't see anything for the spots in my eyes. I'm defeated. I don't love you either. I do not necessarily even want to sleep with you any more, though that could just be all the damned warm fuzzies in this place. I just want you to go off, be happy, and leave me to pretend I am triumphant. I can't let anyone know. I'm too damn proud." He took his hand off of her shoulder and she immediately put her own there, as if to try and capture the warmth.

"So that's it?" He shook his head. "Well damn it House. I am through crying for, about, or because of you. I have been angry enough for long enough as it is. I'm out of here. I'll be ok, you know? I am stronger than that." "I know you will Lettie. That is the only reason why I feel like I can let you go. Don't blame yourself. Blame me, everyone always does, it is easier that way." Lettie got up from the couch and stood in the middle of the room. She turned to look at House and then said one thing he was not expecting. "At least let me hug you before I leave."

"Why?" but he stood up anyway. "So I can fulfill any latent fantasies that might surface later… for closure that is why! I am a female, we need resolution." She walked very close to him, put her arms around his neck and pulled herself close to him. As he awkwardly wrapped his arms around her she whispered something into his ear, very closely, and then turned and walked out the door. A very pleased and confused looking House stood where she left him, long after she was gone.

_Lettie opened her eyes and stood up from the bench. As she started to walk away, she put her hands into her pockets and smiled a little as she walked off. "If you ever come to the ballet, stage door for me, I get lonely after all those performances, I need company sometimes." she whispered to herself, and then burst out laughing. Met his match indeed. She was not going to let him get away without appealing to his baser side one more time. Did she win? Only time would tell._

**_A/N: This is not how I envisioned the story going when I first started it, as I intended for it to stop after chapter one, just a drabble. But I really have come to love Lettie, and writing about her. I think she and Dr. House are pretty much finished together, but that is why I introduced Cameron, I like to think that Lettie could be a staple little ballerina for a few more stories. let me know if you happen to agree. And PLEASE PLEASE R&R, I like to know what people think, period. The only reason I write is for feedback. Thanks all!_**


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